


A Phoenix Hour

by fivefootthree



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, So much comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivefootthree/pseuds/fivefootthree
Summary: Even with the answers he'd craved for so long, Mac couldn't figure out how to fix it this time. His team knows the answer: Mac isn't broken to begin with. Post season 2 finale.





	A Phoenix Hour

His heart pounded in time with his strides. By the time he got to the door, he was trying to keep himself from running, needing to be _out_ , to be _away_ , to _think_.

Right now, there was just too much.

Oh, it was the right decision to leave, definitely. That wasn’t a snap decision. That had been moderately obvious within ten minutes of discovering who, exactly, the mysterious Oversight was.

That was a decision all his own, Mac thought bitterly. Perhaps the first one he’d ever made.

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he ground his teeth. His car, he remembered as he stopped in the lot, was stripped down for parts by the side of the road somewhere.

Jack would give him a ride, he knew. Any of them would, but white noise filled Mac’s ears at the thought of interacting with anyone just then.

So he strode relentlessly onward, just forcing himself to breathe slow and deep as he started walking through the isolated land the Phoenix sat on.

Slow and deep. Slow and deep. He could hear Jack’s voice coaching him through it, but he couldn’t get his heart to stop pounding, and his breath kept going shallow. Heat kept racing through his veins, and it took a long time to categorize it as anger, burning through him since this whole mess had begun.

In fact, he hadn’t been this angry since first getting abandoned by his father.

He shut that thought up and just kept marching onward, overwhelmed in spite of himself by the feelings roiling up to the top.

Fifteen years of heartache over a cold absentee father who’d manipulated his life emotionally and who had…nudged…him into certain directions from afar.

A shudder rocked through Mac at the memory. _Nudged._

Pretty sure that was what he told himself to avoid the cowardice involved in running away from a _ten-fucking-year-old-boy_ who’d lost his mother too.

Anger again sent prickles down his arms.

_Nudged_.

What, after all, had been Mac’s?

…

Back at the Phoenix, silence reigned.

“Did we see that coming?” Riley asked finally, her tone revealing she wasn’t surprised.

“Yeah,” Jack said, sighing. “Yeah, I saw that one coming,” he said, catching a glimpse of anger on Oversight’s face as he moved jerkily towards the door and closed it. “Matty, I—”

She cut him off before he could go any further. “I know, Jack, but not yet. I don’t think we’ve wrapped this matter up yet, and as long as you are an agent at Phoenix you’re strategically placed. You can keep an eye on Mac – consider it protective detail, if not partnership – and have Phoenix support, by which I mean _our_ support, while we finish up Walsh, Murdoc, The Collective, and The Ghost. They _will_ come after Mac again, and I’m not going to abandon him to face that, to face _all_ that, on his own. If you still want to leave after that, I won’t stop you.

Jack paused a moment, thinking, before shaking his head. “That makes sense, Matty, but it feels like a betrayal and I can’t – I _won’t_ – do that to Mac. We’ve asked more of him than we have any right to, and I’d hate myself for piling on more on the kid with all this, hmm, _dad_ business.”

Jack, they all appreciated, was restraining himself.

Matty’s face softened, understanding. “Ok, Jack. But don’t tender your resignation this instant. Talk to Mac first. Tell him what I’m thinking, and decide together. All of you, actually,” she continued, including Bozer and Riley in her gaze. “Take a couple days. Decompress, and come back and tell me what you want to do going forward. You’ll have my full support in whatever you decide, though any and all of you leaving would be a hell of a loss to the Phoenix.”

She didn’t tell them about the little flare of satisfaction it would give her deep down that Oversight would have to acknowledge at least to himself that he had erred. She was far too much of a professional to say _I told you so_ , but you can be damn sure he’d know she was thinking it.

Bozer, still uncharacteristically quiet, was the first to nod and walk out. Jack followed, thanking Matty as he went. Riley, to Matty’s pleased surprise, lingered a few moments longer.

“Are you going to go in there and deal with the fallout now?” she asked, jerking her thumb at the office in front of them, where Mac Senior’s curly locks could still be seen through the dimmed glass, bent over his laptop.

“Yeah,” Matty said, squashing the urge to heave a sigh.

Riley gazed at the bent head. “I’d really like to go in there and give him a piece of my mind, but I haven’t figured out what, exactly, I’m supposed to do with all this. But Mac told us you were the one feeding him clues about his dad, so—is there anything I can do to help?”

Matty _was_ touched. “No,” she said, smiling slightly as she laid her hand over Riley’s fist, wrapped around her laptop. “That’s my job, but thank you for asking.”

Riley nodded, collecting her gear. “Ok then. I’ll…talk to you soon, I guess.” With that, she also left the room.

Allowing herself a deep breath, Matty steeled herself and knocked on Oversight’s door.

…

Deep in the woods surrounding the Phoenix, Mac had settled himself into the side of a massive beech tree.

He was trying to establish – well, the facts, he supposed. Something to establish solid ground to rebuild himself on.

Fact 1: his dad is an asshole.

Fact 2:--wait, nope, not done chewing over the fact of his dad being an asshole yet.

Fact 2 (and 3): there were some extenuating circumstances. He’d lost his wife, and his partner had betrayed him.

(Fact 4: his partner was also an asshole. Jack was Definitely Not an Asshole.)

(Fact 5: he’d lost his wife to cancer, and he’d been left with a grieving, special-needs 10-year-old boy)

Fact 6: he abandoned the boy.

Fact 7 (and 8): the reasons given were that the boy looked so like his mother it made him angry, and that he was supposedly trying to keep his son safe.

Fact 9: he then played God over his son’s life from afar, putting him right in the situations he’d ostensibly left to keep his son safe from. Given the situation they’d literally just come out of, what the hell sort of meaning was he supposed to pull out of that?

Fact 10: because of facts 1-9 and their discovery so late in life, Mac was no longer sure what, in his life, was ever truly 100% his.

Wait, no, that was stupid, and a little unfair, Mac backtracked a moment later, blowing out a deep breath. Bozer was definitely his. Jack, thank God, Jack was—

There. Mac blinked, but Jack was actually there, standing in front of him, all of a sudden, looking a little incongruous among the greenery in his black leather, peering worriedly down at his young partner.

“What, you didn’t think I was going to come after you, partner? Though I will admit you led us on a merry little chase – how the hell did you get this far into the woods, man? You just rabbited away—”

“You’re a rock,” Mac broke in. He didn’t quite mean to say that out loud, but out it came. The words cut Jack off in surprise.

“Uhhh, well, you wanna give me some context for that statement, bud? I’m not sure what exactly rocks have to do with the topic at hand, or with me really, but I—”

“No, I mean, you’re a rock. You are – a fact. You are, well, not Walsh, or my dad.”

“Yes, I am, in fact, 100%, certifiably and completely, Jack Dalton,” he said, and though his voice was teasing, the smile he gave was cracked and sad. The older man sat down on the ground next to Mac, careful not to crowd Mac. Jack knew his partner well, but Mac allowed himself to scoot closer to Jack, suddenly wanting the shelter that was Jack’s presence. He could almost feel the noise in his head receding in the immediate balm of Jack’s presence. Mac felt suddenly exhausted.

“Mac,” Jack said after a few minutes quiet.

“Hmm?” Mac responded, trying not to tense at what he was sure was the beginning of one of Jack’s pep talks. He wasn’t sure he had the energy.

It took another few minutes for Jack to respond.

“I’m sorry.”

Mac deflated.

“Yeah,” he said, resigned. “Me too. But – thanks for having my back through it all.”

The quiet that again met his statement had Mac craning his neck to face his partner. Jack’s face was uncharacteristically serious, the twinkle Mac was used to gone as he stared into the woods. “Jack?” Mac questioned.

            “Mac,” Jack began. “Joking about this would be more my style but in this case I’m going to give it to you straight up, because I need you to know this and because given your dad’s, and I’m trying to be nice here, predisposition to manipulative and negligent behavior I want to be as straight with you as possible.”

            “Jack, what are you talking about?” Mac questioned, a horrible fear springing up in him. “Did you – know about him all this time?”

            “What, no, God no, I’d never do that to you kid! Swear on my dad’s grave, no. Shit no, I was just trying to—I didn’t mean to give you a heart attack and spoil the moment. I’m sorry!”

            It was quiet for a few moments while Mac regained his equilibrium, leaning his head back against the tree, closing his eyes, and breathing, afraid that the next words out of Jack’s mouth would be to tell him that they could never see each other again. “Ok,” he said finally, feeling hollowed out. “Ok.”

            Silence fell again as Jack took a moment to recollect his thoughts. His voice was soft and earnest when he started again. “Mac, look at me a moment,” he said, and as Mac pulled his head back up he felt Jack pull himself to sit back on his knees beside him.

            “Mac, what I’m trying to say is, you not working at the Phoenix any more doesn’t change things between us in any way other than on paper. I am still going to be here, with you, every day. I could no sooner walk away from you than I could split myself in two, because the effect would be about the same. Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, as the Good Book says. Where you go, I go, where you stay, I stay, and all that jazz. I couldn’t do otherwise.”

            “Jack, I know you would if you could, but you’re still an agent of Phoenix. You’re going to have missions. A new—” he paused, swallowing. “A new partner. It’s ok – you’re too good an agent to lose, Jack. I’d hate to think I messed up your career.”

            The disgust on Jack’s face was comical. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said, it pains me to recollect them. First – well, ok, I’ll grant you that I’m still an agent of Phoenix. _For now_. I wanted to quit after you stormed out but Matty made a proposition for me to lay out before you before I tendered my official resignation. But we’ll discuss that tomorrow, when we’ve slept and eaten and can think straight. Second, _a new partner_ , my God, what is wrong with you, man? After everything we’ve been through, after all we’ve done with each other, you want me to go through that again with some _greenhorn_ , and believe me, he ain’t gonna be anything like you. Ain’t no thing like you but you, with all the magic science hoodoo. And third—” and here Jack’s face again went dead serious. “You don’t have the power to mess up my career, Mac. Only I do, and in my book, there’s no question family comes first. Son, you walked into my heart a long time ago and made yourself a home there. To cut you out would be to cut out a part of my own heart. That would definitely mess up my career, but more than that it would _break my heart_. I won’t do it. I won’t leave you.”

            By the end of Jack’s speech, Mac had averted his eyes, working to get his emotions under control, but Jack needed there to be no doubts in his head.

            “Mac, I know this is hard, but look me in the eye, ok?” he said, resting his hand at the juncture of Mac’s neck and shoulder. Slowly, his face still pointed downward, Mac met Jack’s gaze.             The poor boy was wrecked, his blue eyes swimming in tears. “I’m not your dad, Mac. _I’m not going anywhere._ ”

            The tears started spilling out at that and Mac let himself tip forward until he could hide his face in Jack’s shoulder. “You can’t promise that, Jack,” he said, his voice small, muffled by Jack’s clothes. “What we do – it’s _insane_. You can’t promise.”

            Jack bent his head so that his mouth was right by Jack’s ear. “You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’m going to do it anyway. Short of a kill shot, Angus MacGyver, I promise to do everything in my power to come back to you no matter what and always. Do you hear me?”

            Mac was trembling like a leaf in Jack’s grip, but Jack insisted. “Do you hear me, son?”

            Jack felt the shaky nods against his neck, this time. “Yes,” Mac breathed, sniffling as he pulled his head up to look at Jack. But Jack didn’t let him pull away completely. “I hear you, Jack.”

            “Good. Now you just relax a bit. When you’re ready, we’ll get out of here.”

            Jack’s arm warm and heavy around him, Mac dropped his head back to Jack’s shoulder and just _breathed._

Jack made himself comfortable and tugged Mac closer. Gradually, Jack felt the tension ease out of Mac. When Mac dragged in a deep breath and sagged into Jack, Jack allowed himself a smile. “That’s right, bud,” he agreed. “I got you.”

He allowed him a few more minutes before speaking again. “You ready to get out of here?”

Mac forced himself to shift away from Jack and open eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Yeah,” he said, straightening up and swiping the remnant of tears from his eyes. Jack hoisted himself up and gave Mac a hand. “Come on then.” Jack said. “One foot in front of the other, brother. I’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” Mac echoed, letting Jack sling his arm over his shoulders.  He settled a little more into Jack’s side. “Yeah, I know you do.”

Together, they trudged back through the woods.

Dimly, Mac was a little surprised at how far he’d gotten. He hadn’t really noticed it, on the way over, as distracted as he was. It was a good two miles out from the parking lot, and by the time they made it to Jack’s truck it was starting to get dark outside. He climbed wordlessly into the passenger seat as Jack started the engine.

Jack takes him to the diner, their usual diner when both of them were wiped out from a mission and wanted something warm, fast, and easy on the stomach. Jack orders comfort food for both of them: a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup for Mac, and a plate of pancakes, eggs, and sausage for himself. 

Jack gulped down the glass of water the waitress had poured for him. After refilling his cup, he leaned back into the worn red cushions of the booth. “Did you know,” he began mock-seriously, “that your body is made up of 70% water?”

Mac dipped his chin, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I did know that. In fact, I’m pretty sure the reason _you_ know that is because I told you that on the mission a couple weeks ago, when you tried to drink up Lake Ontario.”

Jack pouted. “That asshole clocked me over the head and managed to throw me out of a damn helicopter! I wasn’t in any condition to be differentiating up from down and oxygen from water by the time I hit the water!”

“Yeah, but I was literally _right underneath the plane_. You were only like ten feet above me. If you had _dove out_ instead of going toe to toe with a guy who was easily 6’8, you would have had a nice dip before getting leisurely hauled out of the drink by yours truly. I had a dinghy!”

“Your dinky little dinghy had 6 bullet holes in it! That you were patching up with, I dunno, what _were_ you patching it up with anyway? Eyebrow hairs and fish scales?”

“I—” Mac stopped and stared. “ _Eyebrow hairs_?”   

“I dunno, man! Like I said, I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders at the time!”

But Jack couldn’t keep a straight face, and was cracking up before he’d even finished the sentence.

Mac couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, and it loosened something in him. It was good to get it out in laughter, he thought briefly.

Otherwise, it would be in tears.

In spite of himself, the mood changed, sobered, Jack catching on that his gambit to lighten things up hadn’t caught on the way he had hoped. Mac shot him an apologetic smile as their food came, the fragrant smoke from the soup suddenly making him realize he actually was hungry, famished even.

Jack, naturally, took eating very seriously, so silence reigned as they dug into their plates.

 While the food certainly steadied Mac, he could feel himself getting drowsy as his belly warmed and filled. Jack watched the color come back into Mac’s cheeks with satisfaction.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Jack asked.

A smile tipped the corners of Mac’s mouth up. “You’re totally gonna say that end credits scene in the first Avengers movie, aren’t you. Where they’re all eating shawarma and falling asleep in their food.”

“Well, yes, of course I am,” Jack retorted. “I’m Thor, I think. Strong, handsome, crazy younger brother who’s way smarter than him, good-tempered, up for anything, good fighter. That fits me, I think.”

_You forgot ‘loyal,’_ Mac thought to himself. “Who am I?” he asked.

Jack thought for a few moments. “I dunno, bud,” his voice gentling again. “You have a lot in common with Iron Man, don’t you? Sciency, absentee asshole father, incredibly intelligent, incredibly generous, so invested in saving the world he doesn’t take care of his own hide, a little too one-track-minded at times. But that sadness that takes over when you think I’m not looking, that loneliness, that gentleness and goodheartedness and integrity even after the world had beaten you down, that willingness to throw _yourself_ down on the grenade to save others, that determination to do things alone so people don’t get hurt—that’s pure Cap.”

_That_ was far too on the nose, so Mac turned back to his food until the lump in his throat sank back down again.

He missed Jack’s eyes resting on him, bleeding with helpless affection.

Once they had finished their food and were leaning back into the cushions, Jack signaled for the check. “Well, if we stay out much longer, I _am_ going to fall asleep in my food. Come on, let’s get out of here and go home.”

Honestly, Mac pretty much checks out after that, falling asleep before Jack even pulls out of the parking lot. There are snatches – Jack throwing his coat over Mac stretched out in the passenger seat, Jack swearing a blue streak at a driver that had cut him off on the highway, Jack humming along with the radio to some song about Texas. Underneath it all, though, there’s a hum of warmth unfurling the fists in his chest.

Then suddenly Mac’s in what he knows is his own bed, blinking in surprise as Jack helps him take his shoes off. “Jack?” he asks, reaching for Jack’s arm as he pulls the blanket over Mac’s shoulders.

“I’m here, kiddo! Just go back to sleep, ‘kay? I got point on this one.”

“Jack,” he says again, insistent, holding on to Jack’s wrist. Jack’s not even certain Mac’s truly awake.

“Okay, son,” he says softly, giving in, hooking the chair at Mac’s desk with his ankle and pulling it towards the bed to sit on. “Just go to sleep now. I’m here.”

Mac was fighting sleep, he could tell—something in him unwilling to call an end to an overwhelming day yet. “Sleep now, brother,” he said again, bringing his other hand to cup over Mac’s. “It’ll keep till tomorrow.”

Mac gave in, assent drawing his eyes closed, his grip on Jack’s wrist growing lax as his body loosened into the mattress. When Jack was certain Mac was under, he tucked Mac’s hand under the blanket, smoothed a fond hand over Mac’s hair, and backed up quietly. He would stay close tonight. Maybe the couch in the living room.

The sight that met him in the living room made his heart fuzz over with soft affection. Though the room’s lights were turned down, he could still see that Riley was sprawled on the lounge, a blanket thrown over her lap and a drink in hand. On the other side of the sectional couch another bed had been set up, and on the floor, the air mattress had been inflated and loaded it with pillows and blankets. Bozer himself was sitting on the sofa idling on his phone, obviously waiting for Jack, a drink on the table in front of him.

“Hey, Boze, what’s all this?” he asked.

“We kinda planned a sleepover – and by sleepover, I mean neither of us wanted to be far from Mac, and we figured you wouldn’t either, so we kinda just…

“Planned a sleepover,” Jack finished, understanding by the end of the explanation that Bozer had a lot on his mind.

“Yeah.” 

“That was a good thought, Bozer, thank you.”

Bozer beamed, something in his face relaxing. “Do you want a drink? I have Jack Daniels, Kentucky bourbon, and gin. Or beer.”

“Uh, sure. What are you having?”

“Gin and tonic for the lady, jack and coke for me.”

Jack grimaced. “Neat bourbon for me please.”

“Coming right up!”

While Bozer prepared his drink, Jack toed his shoes off and sat on the couch by the unclaimed bed, yawning. “How the hell is it barely 8pm, Riles?”

She blinked at him, setting her drink down and nestling further into the blankets. “Yeah,” she said. “This day is taking forever.”

He would wager she’ll be asleep within fifteen minutes.

“One bourbon, right up!”

Jack accepts the glass with thanks, closing his eyes as the drink sends welcome heat unfurling into his belly. Time for a little crash of his own, he figures, as the stress of the day leeches out from his body.

He ached, but roused himself anyway to check on Bozer. Bozer had never been _his_ the way Riley and Mac were, but that was more because of the things they had in common: quick talkers, charmers, devotedly loyal friends, and endless reserves of patient kindness. Knowing that Bozer had been that for Mac since they were little had merited Jack’s immediate trust – and learning of Bozer’s affinity for great movies and talent with cooking had gone a long way in establishing a friendship between the two. So, “you doing ok, Bozer?” he asked.

Bozer…wanted guidance, and didn’t know how to ask for it. “Is Mac ok?” he asked instead. Jack saw Riley turn her gaze towards them out of the corner of his eye.

Jack hesitated. “Well, yes, he is. But it’s going to take him a while to level out from all this. I mean what kind of bastard does that to his own kid—and then turns around and micromanages Mac’s life from, apparently, just down the hall? He had to have been aware that Mac had been searching for him; he had to have been aware of the pain and suffering he’d caused his boy by abandoning him without any answers. Do you—did you know him before he left? Was he like this?”

It was Bozer’s turn to pause. “I met Mac a year before his dad abandoned him. We were both really little, so I don’t remember a ton about his dad. But I do remember feeling awkward around him, and honestly, Mac would come over to my house much more than I would go to his. We—Mom really had a soft spot for him, this sad-eyed skinny white kid, and she always told me to invite him as often as possible. He honestly came over most days after school, and we’d hang out for hours together.”

Jack sighed. “I’m really glad he had you then, Bozer.”

“To be honest, Jack, I kinda felt like I was glad to have _him_. Especially after my brother died, Mac was incredible. I was too little to realize it then, but even then Mac understood pain. I would feel like the world was just too _loud_ , and Mac would come as often as he could, and just come next to me, his shoulder against mine, and it was like a pillar to lean on. He wouldn’t say anything, he’d just be there, and I could go on a little longer.”

Jack nodded, touched but unsurprised. “Yeah,” he said. “I think that being strong for others is one of the things that makes Mac tick.”

“What can I do to help him, Jack? How can I take away some of that sadness?”

“Honestly, Boze, do what you do. Be there for him. Be what he was for you. Be steady in being there for him, both of you,” he said, including Riley in his gaze. “Show him that you are his friends, his _family_ , because of who he is, and not because of anything his dad had to do with it.”

Bozer’s eyes were thoughtful as he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Me too,” Riley added.

Jack smiled. “Yeah, I know you can. I know you don’t need me to tell you to do that, and I’m so proud of the people you both are. Upstanding, caring, doing the right thing—how lucky am I to be a part of this team?”

“We feel the same way about you, Jack,” Bozer answered simply, and Jack took a minute to marvel about the maturity and self-awareness Bozer exuded. He was relieved—if something happened to him, the kids would take care of each other.

“Good. Now that we’re all on the same page then, let’s try to catch some shuteye while we can, because if I know my boy, we’ve got at most three more hours before he wakes up.”

Jack was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Riley had been half asleep for hours, and it took her just minutes to sink all the way under. Bozer stretched out on his stomach on the air mattress, but he still felt awake and restless, not even a second drink serving to satisfactorily dull the thoughts in his head.

If it was any other day, he thought, he’d go and bug Mac, who had never been great at sleeping. But given that Mac had been mostly asleep on his feet when Jack had brought him in, and, well, given the last couple days he’d had, Boze figured the man deserved whatever unbroken sleep he could get.

So Bozer turned over and let his thoughts drift. Eventually, he figured, he’d fall asleep. But he had only just felt himself begin to settle when he heard Mac’s door open, guessing that Mac was going to the bathroom or maybe to get some water. He didn’t know if he should get up and check on his friend, but Mac made the decision for him, coming into the living room because he saw the lights still on, though dimmed.

“Hey Mac,” he whispered, wanting neither to startle Mac nor to wake up Jack and Riley.

“Bozer?” As Mac came closer, Bozer could see the confusion writ large on his friend’s face. “What—? What are you guys doing?”

“Having a sleepover!” Bozer answered airily, stretching wide across the mattress.

Mac blinked at him, snagging a water bottle from the stash Bozer had left on the table. “Uh-huh, that’s totally a thing we do.”

“Ok, so, we _are_ having a sleepover,” Bozer said, acquiescing as he sat up and crossed his legs. “But we’re having it mostly because none of us wanted to be far away from you tonight.”

Mac blushed cherry red. “I’m fine, Bozer. You really don’t have to worry about me, and I feel bad you guys aren’t sleeping comfortably because of me.”

“Ok, first, _yes_ , of course I have to worry about you. You’re my best friend, my _brother_ , and you have no sense of self-preservation _at all_ , Mr. EOD-tech-I-can-save-the-world-with-a-bathrobe-and-a-toenail. Second, you just had a hell of a couple of days, a climax to something Jack, Riley, and I have actively supported you in and been invested in for years. To find out that your dad is what he is is a shock to all of us, and I think we could all use the reminder that we’ve got each other’s backs, we’re family. And third—” and here Bozer’s voice got dead serious, “You’re the heart and soul of this team, Mac. I know you don’t know that, or at least you don’t act like you know that losing you would kill us, and maybe – though we absolutely support your decision to leave the Phoenix; your reasoning is rock solid – but maybe we’re a little afraid that this means losing you anyway, and us wanting to be close to you is as much for our comfort as it is yours.”

Mac took a few moments to appreciate the warmth Bozer’s words brought to his chest. “Bozer.” said Mac, equally serious. “You guys are my family. You’ve had my back through all of this. I promise you, I’ll always have yours. I’m not losing you and you are most definitely not losing me.”

Bozer studied his friend. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ok then.” Bozer pulled back the fleece blanket and patted the space next to him, missing the shy, pleased smile that flitted across Mac’s face. As Mac flopped down next to his best friend since childhood, he grinned. “A bathrobe and a toenail?”

Bozer returned the grin as Mac stretched out on his back. “I was trying to make a point!”

“Jack was trying to make the same point earlier, only he had me patching up leaky dinghies with fish scales and eyebrow hairs.”

Bozer chuckled. “There’s nobody on the _planet_ like you, Mac. Not even your dad. I’m so glad we get to call you ours.”

“Me too, Boze,” Mac agreed, making himself meet Bozer’s eyes. “I’m glad too.”

Bozer’s answering smile was one Mac loved – only reserved for when he was really touched. Bozer wiggled down until he was lying on his side next to Mac, his head propped up on his arm, looking like he was trying to talk himself out of asking Mac something.

Sleepiness was starting to wash back over Mac, but he knew what his friend wanted. So it was only with a little bit of self-consciousness that Mac shuffled himself closer to Bozer, sighing with relief at the extra warmth. He’d forgotten that Bozer was always _warm_.

Bozer was smiling, delighted at Mac’s perception, as he angled himself into his friend. Years ago, when things were _really_ tough, this was how they had slept. When Mac’s dad left, when Bozer’s brother died. The last time was Mac’s first time on leave as an EOD, and the PTSD had hit hard and all at once. It had taken Bozer forever to crack through the barriers Mac had thrown up and to help bring his friend all the way back home. Mac had slept like the dead for seventeen hours straight, his hands latched into Bozer’s shirt.

But Bozer was recalled from his recollections by the sound of Riley, snapping awake with a low gasp. Mac, dozing off into the pillow, startled back awake at the noise too.

“Riley?” Bozer questioned.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice gravelly with sleep. “Sorry, yeah, I’m—” she poked her head over the edge of the couch. “Mac?”

He stuck his hand up and waved. “Yeah,” he said. “You ok?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments.

“Uhh—do you have any room left on that thing, or is it a boys bed only?”

In response, Mac did what Bozer did for him a half hour prior: pulled the blanket up, on his other side, and patted the mattress. “Always room f’r you,” he mumbled. “Got that right, sister!” Bozer murmured.

There was a pause again before Riley shifted down. She had no qualms about breeching Mac’s personal space and nestled herself right up to him, her forehead smushed into his shoulder and her arm resting in the hollow of his. “Thanks,” she said, her eyes falling closed.

Mac roused himself enough to squeeze her hand. “Thank _you_ ,” he said, but she had already sunk back into sleep. Bozer too was growing lax beside him, his breaths evening out, but Mac wants to stay awake just a little longer. He wants to savor the boneless comfort of the weight of his friends surrounding him, their sleeping bodies blanketing him in warmth and safety. Jack snoring overhead. Mac feels something light up inside him, drowsy and so, so comfortable.   

Here, he is _loved_.

Mac treasures that.

…

Jack woke with the dawn, always. It was drilled into him.

But the sight that met him this particular morning when he sat up stopped him in his tracks, and Jack Dalton, badass Delta Operator and former CIA specialist, basically had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep him from squealing at the cutest thing he’d ever seen: three of the people he loved most in the world asleep on an air mattress at his feet. Mac on his back in the middle, one hand lying open against Bozer’s chest next to him and the other wrapped around Riley, who had leeched on to Mac the way she had leeched on to anyone who had put her to sleep when she was a child. Riley had stuck right to Mac’s side, one possessive arm thrown round his chest. Bozer was on Mac’s left, facing Mac, one hand underneath his pillow and the other resting over Mac’s wrist, the tiniest little snore coming on every exhale from his open mouth. All of them were absolutely conked out, and all of them were absolutely the cutest, and dear God he loved them so, so much.

Jack fumbled for his phone and snapped a quick picture, sending it to Matty.

The response came back moments later.

_Well done, Jack._

Jack grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Cecil Day-Lewis' poem, "Do Not Expect Again a Phoenix Hour."


End file.
